A/N: Yes, I know the explanation Faith gives is incomplete, but she doesn't know what Giles and the others do yet.
FIC: Ravages Of Hell (24/?)
"This isn't good." Angel blinked as he was forced out of a dark, narrow tunnel and into well-lit, open-roofed octagon, and the area above its high walls filled with bleachers containing a multitude of differing demons, their hisses, grunts, and snarls adding up to a deafening clamour. Just to give the arena that last touch, a variety of blood-stained weapons lay on its sandy ground.
And as he stepped into the arena, a grille screeching down behind him, a figure came out of the tunnel opposite, some sixty paces away. Angel groaned as he recognised the creature. "And it just keeps getting better and better."
The monster stood maybe seven and a half feet tall with a pair of gleaming horns sprouting out of its head adding a much as another foot to its height. Its eyes gleamed red under a snout nose, and its black-furred body contained a set of muscles that uncomfortably reminded Angel of the Beast. "And wasn't that a fun trip for all involved?"
The monster started towards him, hooves leaving sandy footprints in its wake. Angel waited until the Minotaur was almost upon him before diving into a forward roll to the monster's left, snatching up a broadsword as he rolled past the mammoth beast. Leaping up behind the creature, he thrust the blade deep into the area where he hoped the creature's heart was.
"Ahhhhhhh!" Even as the beast threw out its arms and let out an arena shaking bellow, Angel cartwheeled his way over to a double-bladed axe, scooped the weapon up, stepped around and in front of the monster, and back-handed slashed at its neck.
The Minotaur's head disappeared in a shower of blood, head exploding off its broad shoulders as it toppled forward. For a second the arena was deathly silent, stunned into stillness by Angel's easy kill.
And then he was moving, axe in one hand and sword in the other, easily clearing the 20 feet wall to land in the first row of the bleachers. Axe swinging one way and the sword the other, Angel hewed a viscera-soaked path through the shocked monsters en-route to his escape. As he reached the top of the arena, Angel looked back down, towards where he guessed the cells lay. "I'll be back, Connor. Count on it," he promised before leaping off.
"I made a mistake!" Buffy snapped at the Immortal, anything to end his glowers. "Are you happy now?"
"Not really," her boyfriend stared left and right. "Your apology would only mean something if I thought you meant it."
"Why you-. Whoa!" Buffy fell onto her butt as the snow before them erupted, a huge beast flying out from the ground. Buffy stared up into the sky, eyes widening at the monstrosity hovering above.
The dragon, because there was no way on earth it was anything else, was about a hundred and fifty feet in length from the tip of its bone-spurred tail to its teeth-filled mouth. Every scale covering its green body seemed the same thickness of tank armour, and the eyes either side of its smoke-blowing snout glowed a malignant red. Its long chicken-like legs ended in horrific looking claws, easily capable of picking an elephant up in one of them. Its massive wings though, they were the things of nightmares, a shade of black your eyes seemed unable to focus on without chilling you to the bone, and somehow greying the blue sky for as far as the eyes could see.
"W…what i…is that?" Buffy whispered between chattering teeth.
"Nidhogg," everyone looked towards the Immortal. "A dragon who eats the roots of the World Tree, Yggdrasill."
"So, not a good guy?" Everyone turned to Michelle. Buffy shook her head in disapproval; even she knew the answer to that one. "Sorry I asked. Here's a better question, what do we do?"
"Run!" Leaping to her feet, Buffy grabbed the Immortal's hand and yanked him to his feet.
"Now we've got that sorted out," Faith nimbly leapt over the table and sat down, swinging her boots up onto the table, "I'll take a load off." Faith raised an eyebrow at the king's apoplectic expression and the horrified looks on the halberdiers and knights' faces. "What?"
"My dear," Merlin, who looked just like she'd imagined him – sort of like Gandalf on steroids, straight back, flowing grey hair and waist-long beard, black eyes that looked like they could bore deep into your soul and pluck out every secret, chuckled. "You're sat in the king's seat."
"Ah," Faith paled as she followed Merlin's gaze to the glaring Arthur. She shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "All these seats look the same," she defended. "Maybe you guys should look into nameplates."
"Your feet are resting on it," Merlin's eyes gleamed with amusement.
"SHIT!" Leaping to her feet, she looked down at the scuffed bronze plaque and then at the king. "Uh, sorry." She glared at Kennedy head-butting the table and the other two Slayers rolling around the stone-paved floor, tears of laughter pouring down their faces. It wasn't that funny.
The bearded king's mouth opened, lips thinning to a scowl. "Peace, sire," the magician interrupted. "The child made an honest mistake." Faith's mouth opened to protest being called a child, if anyone was woman-sized she was, then closed it again. Right now she'd take just about any route out of having to fight her secret childhood hero. The mage's eyes turned to sudden black stone, the council room's temperature plummeting. "However I would be very interested in your story, I sense you have travelled long and far-."
"Oh boy," Faith muttered under her breath, "are you on the money."
"And I am more than a little interested to discover how your time has four Slayers?" the magician finished.
"See," Faith spoke up when she realised her companions were looking to her for answers. "In our time there were two Slayers, the second line having being activated when the first drowned but brought back to life by a friend. But then we were battling the First and his army of Turok-Han, and two Slayers wasn't nearly enough, so the premier witch of our time activated all the potentials, creating hundreds of Slayers, and then we kicked the First's ass."
"The First?" Merlin's eyes widened. "You fought the First Evil and won." The sorcerer looked at each of them in turn. "Most impressive. But casting a spell that would create so many Slayers," the mage shook his head, "that could only cause a dimensional imbalance that could very well rip the world apart. Perhaps it would have been best if the First won! Such foolishness!"
"Hey!" Kennedy's eyes flared at the criticism of her girl-friend. "It wasn't Will-."
"A little diplomacy Ken," Faith briefly enjoyed the younger Slayer's slack-jawed look before continuing. "Yeah, maybe so, but we didn't know that at the time. But now, Satan," she raised an eyebrow when several of the men recoiled, "grow a pair. He's not like Voldemart, ya can't summons him by just mentioning the name."
"You've read Harry Potter?" Vi snorted.
Faith eyeballed the red-head. "Is that gonna be a problem?" she demanded before looking at the others. "Anyhow, because of the Slayer mass calling, all these demons are sorta leaking into our dimension, and the only way to close all the holes is by -."
"The Three Tridents Of Tariq," Kennedy supplied at a questioning look.
"Yeah," Faith nodded her thanks. "One of which is-."
"Under this very castle," Merlin looked towards Kennedy, eyes narrowing. "This witch you so vehemently defended, her name wouldn't be Willow Rosenberg by any chance?"
"Yeah," Kennedy looked towards her and then back at the mage, "it would."
"It seems we need to do some research-," Merlin smiled at her muttered curse. "Most unladylike language," the sorcerer waggled a spindly finger at her, "it seems the passing of countless generations has not lessened the Slayer line's antipathy to study."
"Got that right," Faith agreed.
The magician chuckled before looking towards the increasingly confused-looking king. "By your leave, my king?"
After a second, Arthur nodded. "I will expect a full explanation later."
"But of course my lord," Merlin nodded. "Girls, follow me."
Faith shook her head as the mage started out of the council room. "At least he didn't yell 'heel'."
Angel smiled as he peered down on a three man patrol as it ducked into the darkened alley ahead of him. He'd spent the entire day and the early part of the next night evading patrols, but now his patience was just about run out, and these three had isolated themselves.
Unlucky for them.
Creeping to the edge of the roof he was crouched on, he waited until the oblivious trio passed by under him before leaping to the ground behind the two demons bringing up the rear. He was attacking before he'd even hit the ground, his axe taking the head of the right demon, his sword decapitating the left.
The third demon, one of the same breed who'd captured him the previous night, charged him. Not wanting to kill his opponent just yet, Angel dropped his axe and slammed a right into the demon's jaw while at the same time swinging his sword behind the demon, slicing his hamstring in half.
A look of bewildered pain on its ugly face, the demon stumbled backwards, right leg flopping horribly. Dropping his other weapon, Angel ran shoulder-first into the beast, knocking it against the wall, another right and it was down on the ground, him knelt on top of it, hands around its head.
"Now," he shot the trapped demon his best Angelus smile, the one Angelus used just before he created his 'art', "you're a smart looking boy. How about you tell me where I can find the resistance and I'll kill you quickly?"
"We're behind you."
Angel glanced over his shoulder and looked to his left and right to see a trio of raggedly-dressed men brandishing bows and arrows in both ends of the street. "Why is it people are always pointing weapons at me?" he twisted the demon's neck, the rebels paling at the sound of cracking bone. "Am I not a friendly lad?"
Buffy's blood roared as she led her companions on a wild, helter-skelter charge through the desolate wilderness, the dragon relentlessly following. At one point they had burst out of a copse for it to be turned to ashes a half-second later, the dragon's breath more than enough to singe them.
Spying a gully our of the corner of her eye, Buffy veered sharply to her right. "Down here!" Soon she was leading the others down the slope, nimbly skipping down the steep incline.
"Ahhhh!"
Buffy's eyes widened as she looked over her shoulder to see that the Immortal, not having their natural agility had fallen, and was even now rolling haphazardly down, his fall turning the snow-covered incline into an avalanche. "Oh sh-."
And then the snow hit her.
"And this quartet of wenches?" she hissed from the shadows of one of the castle's deepest dungeons, a most uncomfortable place for a meeting, but also most discreet. "Is it true, they are Slayers?"
"Merlin himself has confirmed it," replied her spy.
Morgana's lip curled up in disdain. Damn that well-meaning fool and his unassailable power. If he just worked with her, the entire nation could be theirs. But no, he was too busy prattling on about honour, justice, and courage. Well, if she couldn't have the kingdom, no-one could. She'd see it destroyed.
But that was for another day. "What was this great mission that brings these wenches here?" She listened intently as the traitor filled her in, eyes widening at one revelation after the next. "The Three Tridents Of Tariq?" she hissed. Only the foulest of tomes, many of which she had in her hidden collection, made mention of the Tridents, but even those snippets were enough to both send chills down her spine and make her salivate with thought of their dread power. After a second she shook her head. If Merlin wanted this harlot to have them for doing good, then she knew the bringer of light would want otherwise. "Whoever this Slayer is, have her slain."
"My lady," the spy bowed her head. "As you just said, she is a Slayer. And one of just four, perhaps other-worldly methods would be better suited."
It was on the tip of her tongue to rip her agent's head off for his impudence, but in the end she nodded. What he said made a certain sense. "Very well, I will think on it."