Chapter Twenty-Nine
I woke with a start to a deafening boom and the ground rumbling beneath the bed. My eyes shot open. I flew to my feet, turned to see if Sitri felt it, too…
Only to find him gone.
As I glanced around, my heartbeat quickened and my muscles tensed. Sitri, his clothes, his weapons, all of him… gone.Gone!As if he’d never been there in the first place. Only his faint, smoky, sandalwood scent clinging to my skin remained as proof last night was real, more than a trick of my memory.
‘If something happens to me, I want you to run as far as you can…’
It hadn’t been hypothetical—that bastard had planned this. What in Hell was this meant to be, some sort of self-righteous sacrifice? What had Bronwen said our chances were? Fifteen-to-one odds for Sitri alone; twelve-to-one with both of us present, still likely to end in failure, but better than either of us on our own…
A second explosion rocked the ground, much stronger than the first. I stumbled to hold my footing as crates shook and weapons clattered tothe floor. Adrenaline surged through my veins, and stomach-seizing dread clawed its way down my throat. Vapula’s attack was starting. There was no time to form a plan. I had three options: stay put and wait it out, make a run for the border, or go out there and face war in the streets, hoping to reach Sitri before he did something reckless.
My heart decided before my mind could weigh in.
I collected the clothes Sitri had laid out for me, pulled them on as I rushed towards the makeshift training ring. My foot caught in the leg of my pants, and I righted myself just as the first demons roared outside.
The crates lining the arena, at least one of them must have contained armor. I threw the lid off the nearest box and drew a sharp breath. There were so many types, built for varied frames and different applications. I had no idea which to choose. Without time to try them all, I reached for a suit of plate-fortified leather, which had served Sitri well enough at the gorge. My trembling hands made it a challenge to fix the buckles and straps in place, but I managed. As an afterthought, I took a plain metal helmet and fastened the attached steel guard around my neck.
Among the weapons on the floor, I spied a morning star of fine make. Its familiar weight reassured me. I’d learned to appreciate the weapon—simple, but cruel, and devastatingly effective.
There were firearms, crossbows, and even longbows scattered about as well. I hadn’t the first idea how to use them, and deemed them hazards. Without the skills to wield them, I’d risk hurting myself as much as my enemies. If I was going out there, I would have to manage with my melee weapon alone and hope my meager training kept me safe on the battlefield.
Outside, the growls and shouts grew louder. I flew to the door, which was no longer barred, and tried to push it open. It didn’t budge. Even when I put my entire weight behind it and slammed my shoulder into the wood, it wouldn’t move.
Sitri must have barred it from the outside, and there was no time left to wrestle with it. I took two steps back, and with my morning star heldtight in both hands, I struck the door. Splinters flew in all directions as spikes sank into wood. It creaked. A second shower of shards fell as I tore it free. With my next strike, it bowed, and a third broke the boards just enough for me to squeeze through. Rancid, ash-laden air hit my face. The stench of blood, fire, and gunpowder blanketed the street like a fetid fog.
Bronwen had been right; the storehouse was safe, outside the path of destruction. Along the city’s western walls, far from Sitri’s manor and the northern gates, no demons thought it worthwhile to go out of their way and raze the place—unlike the city’s center.
Combat raged against the background of burning buildings, which illuminated the silhouettes of demons tearing through adjoining streets. Fire lit Lantyca in an eerie, sanguine glow. Gunfire clattered all around, echoing off stone architecture, which remained untouched by the blaze.
The city was in utter chaos.
Last time I saw combat, I hadn’t fought. I’d run. This time, things would be different. With a silent wish for strength, I readied my weapon and started toward the bloodshed.
Through the streets, between the buildings, I glimpsed the unfolding battle. Snarling hellhounds rushed to sink their fangs into humanoid and bestial demons alike. Gunfire and liquid flame assaulted anything that moved. Flying beasts—imps, presumably—swooped in dizzying patterns overhead, delivering explosive blasts and well-timed distractions, engaging in aerial combat that turned their corpses into falling hazards. From where I stood, I couldn’t tell which were friends and which were foes. Blood oozed from the ever-growing piles of bodies. It ran between the cracks in the stone roads, towards the northern gates, disguised only by smoke. The air was so thick with the stuff that my lungs burned, choking me as my vision faltered.
I took a few cautious steps into an alleyway, watching from behind a corner as a blur of demons tore through the street. Once they faded into the smog, I set out in the direction they were moving. The conflict wasonly a few yards ahead now. Shadows danced in the firelight as small gangs engaged one another, pouncing, clashing, and disengaging in a deadly game of tag. I stepped out of my hiding place and found myself in the thick of it.
“That one!” a demon cried, drawing my attention. “That’s the girl in the painting! Take her unharmed. Special orders from the Duke.”
Three demons sprinted up the road behind me. I turned to face them. Their leader looked almost human, but his companions boasted red skin and giant hoofs that rocked the ground when they walked. Two infernals and an officer.
Even if not for their leader’s command, the demons’ equipment showed their allegiance. The Kingdom of Lust and Lies relied on hardened leather and hide to craft their armor, occasionally reinforcing it with metal, or donning rare suits of medieval plate. These demons wore sewn, shimmering cloth, with a layer of chainmail over top. The party stalled a few arms’ lengths away, muscles tight, and confusion twisting their faces.
“That’s no human soul. Look at her eyes!” the infernal on the right called.
The leftmost demon’s lip curled. “You plan on taking that gamble? Better to catch an extra than to let her run free.”
I blinked, drinking in their desires, swarming like locusts around them as they bickered. I’d never perceived them so clearly before. These demons hungered for the glory of my capture, for the prestige it would award them, to escape the wrath of their displeased master should he learn I got away.
They didn’t realize I could feel it, that their intentions were on full display.
If they needed me so badly, I could afford to take liberties in this fight. The enemy demons couldn’t risk my annihilation; they’d preserve my soul at any cost. A glimmer of hope flared in my chest. I could exploit their hesitation.
“Do you two not value your souls? She’s armed! Now, move!” the center demon commanded.
At his order, the brutes behind him returned their guns to their shoulders. The first selected a bolas, while the second moved in with bare hands. Three verses one; abysmal odds. That had never stopped me before.
