The burning plains were not lush or green; they were gray, and scorched. Smoke rose in places, drifting out of cracks in the earth, and the ground was littered with bones. The castle in the distance was built entirely of roughly hewn stone, and crawling with nightmarish creatures clinging to walls like spiders. Hundreds of demons of every size and shape imaginable stood on the plains, standing in legions before the castle.
They had only given their allies days to prepare, barely enough time to summon a half-decent army. Yet the enemy was waiting.
How did they know we were coming?
Elizabeth could hardly breathe with the heat and smell in the air. She was hot and sticky all over and felt a little faint with the looming reality that they were about to enter a conflict, and some of their friends might die.Shemight die.
She wondered if Caspian would bless her or curse her name for coming to save him while endangering herself and all his friends in the process.
This had been a fool’s errand.
Lucifer, Abbadon, and Belphegor had come. The others had not. Mammond’s absence disappointed her, but according to Asmodeus, greed demons rarely showed up without anything in it for them.
Iago had found her a vest made of leather armour, with steel pauldrons that sat over her shoulders. The back of the vest was long, protecting her backside and leaving her legs uncovered except for the flimsy cotton gown she wore underneath. A conical helmet with a nose guard obscured her face but kept her vision unimpaired. They had given her a small dagger, sheathed in her belt.
Privately, she felt silly, as if she were wearing a costume in a play. Wearing a helmet didn’t make her a warrior.
As someone useless in a fight, she was told to stay with the demon princes and far away from the battle—an order she had been only too happy to obey.
Asmodeus stood tall beside her, arms folded across his chest. They gazed at the armies gathered on the burning plains.
The army on the other side began slowly moving towards them, and the tromp of heavy boots filled the air. The enemy demons marched forward and halted when they reached an invisible line on the plains, as if waiting for some sign.
A demon charged forward on a lizard-like steed.
“Their messenger,” Asmodeus said.
The demon let out a stream of words in harsh syllables.
“We reject your terms. We will not give him to you,” Asmodeus translated grimly.
The demon continued speaking with increasing vigor. Asmodeus, who was supposed to be translating, stood silent beside her.
She looked at Asmodeus expectantly. “And?”
He hesitated. “You will die. You will all die. We will paint the ground with the blood of your household.”
She swallowed, feeling sick.
The demon trotted away, returning to the army gathered on the plains.
A distant horn sounded. Their front line—the expendable lows, and mid-level war demons that thrived on chaos and destruction—ran, crawled, and slithered towards the enemy. The enemy loosed a volley of black arrows.
Magic crackled between the forces, spells colliding in explosive bursts. The armies smashed together with ferocity. Demon lows impaled themselves on pikes.
Then the screaming started—screams that sounded human to her ears.
War was not glory, it seemed. It was vile and disgusting. It was a creature’s organs spilling out from his abdomen, it was screeching in the distance, and shared looks of fear between the demons that fought for their side. It was nothing but death. Elizabeth twisted her hands, feeling wretched that there wasn’t anyother way to get Caspian back, besides sacrificing half their army to fight their way into the enemy castle.
Bodies began piling on the burning plains.
Asmodeus squeezed her shoulder and directed her gaze to the wall. Their legion of fighters had nearly made it to the outer wall of the castle, inching towards the gate. If they could take and hold the gate, they would be in good standing. But for every enemy they struck down, two others seemed to take their place, and their progress was slow.
Elizabeth watched hopefully as more of their fighters closed in on the gate.
Just as she started to feel like they might have a shot at winning and rescuing Caspian without losing too many demons, a mighty roar erupted into the air.
An honest-to-gods dragon descended, its wings casting impossibly large shadows over the battlefield. With orange eyes, the dragon surveyed the battle.
