In the distance, through the gray shroud of mist, he caught a glimpse of a white horse. Sitting astride it was a woman with long black hair that seemed to flow out behind her, even though the horse was barely moving. In the distortion caused by the thick mist, crows seemed to shape the long length of her hair as they flew in a formation behind her head.
Erlik raised his fist and then threw his arm forward, indicating for his men to attack. They began to run toward the woman on the white horse, dodging around the trees and swinging their weapons at brushand plants, hacking through them now that they had a villager in sight. Where there was one, there were bound to be others.
Anguished shrieks reverberated through the forest—screams and bellowing cries, coming from behind them. Erlik whirled around to see many of the demons in the far back and to the right of him writhing on the forest floor. He could barely see with the mist swirling, but there were flashes of orange-red flames and the scent of smoke and rotting corpses. The stench seemed trapped in the gloomy humidity, making it impossible to identify the assailants by smell. The swirling mist made vision poor.
Three crows squawked harshly as they circled above the troops and then flew toward the left side, behind him. At once, the rotting corpse stench seemed to worsen as the shrieks and cries of agony rose to the canopy. Erlik couldn’t make out what was killing his troops, but he was losing far too many men. Orange-red colors began to flare in short bursts of flame, low to the ground, and with each eruption, he knew a demon was incinerated.
The crows chattered harshly directly overhead, calling out to someone. Erlik looked up at the three giant crows and then peered through the mist at the distant woman on the white horse with crows flying around her. Was it possible she was using the birds to spy on them? Was a woman the general? He was certain he was right in his assumption, and the crows were involved, maybe helping to orchestrate the battle.
Before he could direct his forward troops to go back to aid those under attack, hundreds of fiery arrows came out of the mist, targeting the front line. Around him, demons fell to the ground. The moment the demons were writhing on the forest floor, the vegetation seemed to come alive, plants stabbing at the hapless demons, vines tripping them when they tried to get to their feet. The moss seemed to have come alive and was stuffing poisonous mushrooms into the mouths of those on the ground.
Erlik crouched low and began to run from the carnage. There wasno saving his men, not when he saw the dragon lily plants come to life, pointing their rolled petals at the downed troops. Red-orange flames spewed at those on the ground, the flames so hot they incinerated the demons instantly. Dragon fire. They knew the slayer might use it against them, but the plants in the forest?
Erlik ran to intercept his three hundred troops coming in from the south. Four of his most powerful demons flanked him as he sprinted through the trees. With every step he took, a crow shrieked and cawed, marking his position. Cursing, he shot arrows at the birds as he ran. He rarely missed, but the sharpened points never came close to the obnoxious birds.
The sound of the crows overhead felt like the heralding of death. Fear crept in when he had always felt invincible. Fear of the sound of the crows. Fear that the forest was alive and everything in it was the enemy. Fear he couldn’t find his prey and would have to return to his mistress a failure. She had no forgiveness in her. He was doomed if he didn’t wipe out the villagers.
Villagers. That was all they were. How many could there be? The numbers he had were very low. Just under three hundred. That included the teens. They weren’t trained in warfare. His army could wipe them out in seconds. Where were the vampires? He’d lost track of Fulop, but the mistress could yank them back into the underworld if they tried to escape. He just needed to get to his army and get his demons back on task.
As he drew closer to the three hundred, he could just make out the demons fighting through the strange purplish mist. They were wholly engaged in a fierce battle. Satisfaction swept through him. He had three hundred strong, and they must have discovered the villagers hiding like the cowards they were. It would take short work to dispatch them, and he could lead his army out of the forest.
He’d like to burn it down, but for some unexplained reason, fire refused to ignite the trees or bushes. He increased his speed, shouting to the demons flanking him and calling out orders in a booming voice.
Branches overhead swayed unnaturally against the wind, seeming to follow his unexpectedly slow progress. Leaves and debris rustled and moved as if alive. The ground rolled beneath his feet, throwing him first one way and then the next. Two of the demons flanking him went down. He turned to yell at them, to drive them to their feet with his whip. To his horror, vines like slithering snakes had dropped from the trees to coil around the demons. Roots from the trees came alive, pushing through the soil, the dangling fibers like greedy fingers grasping and pulling the demons in different directions with enormous strength.
The demons shrieked as a patch of flowers came alive, undulating like a dragon’s body toward them, the folded petals of lily looking like elegant spikes down the spine. A head swung around, and Erlik’s heart stopped. It was a dragon, and sitting astride it was a woman with long pale blond hair. In her hand, she wielded a sword that looked as if multiple dragon lilies sprang from it, all spewing orange-red flames, steady streams of the hated dragon fire.
There she was, right in front of him. His target. His reason for bringing his army. “Kill the demon slayer,” he ordered, slashing at the dragon with his whip. “Kill her now.”
The remaining two demons raced forward to carry out his orders, but again, the vines dropped from above them, coiling fast around both like powerful anacondas from a rainforest. Roots shot from the ground, whipping around ankles and wrists and necks. The demon slayer turned her attention to the two hapless demons, unleashing dragon fire on them. Erlik ran for his life.
He approached his men at a sprint, aware of the fierce battle and knowing he had to identify himself and take charge quickly. He caught sight of Fulop and his minions at last. Five hunters he recognized immediately as Carpathian fought the master and lesser vampires. Arrows fell like rain from the trees where villagers were hidden and seemed to be protected from return fire. The arrows found demon after demon. Crows flew overhead, cawing harshly, stirring the fighters togreater ferocity. In the distance, through the trees and partially obscured by the mist, he could see the white horse with its rider, the one directing the crows and most likely the battle.
Vines dropped from the trees, huge snakes coiling around any fallen demon. And then the demon slayer was there, astride the dragon covered in lilies. Erlik crouched low, ensuring he wasn’t under a tree where vines could find him before he began to creep through the brush, his gaze fixed on his prize. If he killed the slayer, he could turn things around. He could once more take command of his army and return triumphant.
Erlik waited until her back was turned, until she was directing her deadly fire at the fallen demons, and he struck, knowing in the fierce battle no one had seen him. This was his best chance, and triumphantly he utilized it. He had the ability to make large, very high leaps. The dragon was low to the ground, the tail undulating, the wings beating strongly to keep them in the air. He sprang onto the dragon, swinging his heavy sword with one hand and slamming a dagger into the slayer’s back with the other. Before his sword could take her head, he was yanked backward by an unseen hand.
The strength in that hand was bone crushing, reducing his shoulder to powder. The sword fell from lifeless fingers. The pain was excruciating, but he’d been raised in the underworld, where every moment was torment. He could endure pain. He rolled, knowing it was a Carpathian hunter who had saved the slayer’s life.
Erlik didn’t see the man, and he didn’t chance looking to see where he was. He continued to roll, knowing that his blade had sunk deep into the slayer. Like all demon blades, it was tipped with poison and an anticoagulant. The hunter had scored on him, but in the end, he had killed the slayer. They just didn’t know it yet.
To his astonishment, the hunter didn’t follow up on his advantage. When Erlik gained a deep depression where he could conceal himself for a moment, he crouched low, so he could see the battle and mark the position of the hunter. All five Carpathians were engaged in battlewith the vampires. The fight looked fierce and bloody, but even he could see that the tide had turned against the vampires and his demons. Few were left alive, and the slayer, slumped as she was over the dragon’s neck, continued to spray the downed men with dragon fire.
With a cry of alarm, the woman on the white horse suddenly switched mounts, leaping from the large horse to the back of a flying dragon. Her dragon appeared to be made up of flowers, not looking lethal in the least.
Erlik wasn’t going to take any chances. He scooted back into the depression, did his best to shut down the pain and then oriented himself in the wild chaos. He knew the three hundred were lost, but it didn’t matter, he knew the slayer would die. Her death would be painful, as befitted an enemy of his mistress.
The moment he was certain the slayer and the woman on the flower dragon were wholly occupied in breathing dragon fire on the remainder of his demons and the hunters were incinerating vampires using whips of lightning, he took off at a run for his remaining army. There were only two hundred left, but that wouldn’t matter to the mistress. She would be more than pleased that he had fulfilled the largest part of his mission. Once the slayer was dead, the Carpathian hunters would leave, and he could return to massacre the villagers. In the end, it would all work out.
He ran, his every sense flaring out to find traps. To his dismay, he heard the harsh cry of the crow over his head, keeping pace with him. Marking him. He didn’t bother to try to fling a spear at the creature; his injury was too severe. He ran until he heard the sounds of a fierce battle, his demons snarling and growling, cursing their opponents.
Abruptly, the heavy mist parted to reveal the battlefield. The fighting took place under several large ancient trees. The branches reached out in all directions, some thick and gnarled and some newer and slender. The limbs of the tree provided an overhead canopy blocking out most of the moonlight, but he managed to make out the figures through the heavy mist.
Erlik halted, so shocked that he could only stare at his last remaining men. They fought each other, hacking and killing the demon closest to them. They snarled and gnashed teeth, shrieking curses and threats at the very men they had marched with.
“I believe you are looking for me.” A soft, compelling voice reached out from the mist.
He found himself straining to hear those low, velvety notes that made up that voice. He swore he could see musical notes of silver and gold and wanted to see more. His mind had been in total chaos, but now he felt calmer.
