It should have been a comfort, a lifeline to cling to in the midst of the storm. But Aric knew that Malekith was the architect of this chaos, the mastermind behind the illusion that now threatened to tear the demon army asunder. He had staked everything on this plan, on weakening the portal enough that the humans could easily collapse it, and Aric only hoped they could make it through safely before they did.
With a jolt that knocked the breath from his lungs, Aric and Malekith emerged on the other side. He lurched forward, nearly falling sideways in the saddle, and felt Malekith’s steadying hand on his arm. As his vision cleared, Aric took in their surroundings. They’d emerged in a narrow valley, steep cliffs rising on either side. Dense forests crowned the ridges, providing ample cover. To an untrained eye, it might seem the perfect place to stage their assault on the human town.
But Aric, with his knowledge of human defensive strategies, immediately recognized it as a potential deathtrap for the demon armies.
Vizra strode forward, her face alight with triumph, and the other demons parted to allow her passage. She climbed a rocky outcropping, and her form was silhouetted against the stormy sky as she gazed out over the valley. The other demons gathered at the base of the cliff, their expressions a mix of awe and fear as they took in the otherworldly landscape.
“Behold!” Vizra’s voice boomed, laced with dark magic that carried to the farthest reaches of the valley. “The perfect staging ground for our assault. The humans will never expect us to strike from here.”
Aric’s pulse hammered in his ears as he watched from his place at Malekith’s back. Malekith’s face was maddeningly calm, but his grip on Aric’s arm was like a vise, the sharp points of his claws digging into Aric’s flesh. He was coiled tight, every muscle in his body tensed, and Aric could almost hear the wheels of his mind turning, calculating, plotting.
Malekith’s guards fanned out around them, forming a protective circle as Malekith and Aric joined Vizra at the overlook. The valley stretched out before them, a vast expanse of rocky terrain and twisted forests. And at the pass’s base lay the town of Drindal, a dim smudge of light in the gathering darkness.
Aric lifted one brow as he realized what Malekith had done. At first glance, the high ground of this valley just outside the border city of Dindral was the perfect vantage point for the demon army to launch a devastating attack on the human city. If the demons seized this position, they would have the high ground, and the humans would be utterly unprepared for an assault from that direction.
And then Aric remembered the truth of the valley’s geography, the narrow pass that would make it a death trap for the demon army, and he felt a surge of hope. Malekith had done it. Now the demon army was walking straight into his trap.
Vizra’s smile was positively feral, and it made Aric’s skin crawl. She was enjoying this far too much, showing off for her fellow demon lords and basking in the adulation of her armies. She had no idea that she was marching them straight into a slaughter.
“The positioning is flawless,” Vizra said, her expression triumphant in the fading light. “The humans will have no idea what’s coming for them.”
“Forgive me, my lady, but there are a few concerns I must raise.” Malekith’s voice was like a velvet blade as he spoke, his tone oozing with false deference. “If the humans are able to block us at the pass, we could find ourselves in a vulnerable position.”
Aric had to give Malekith credit. He was playing his part to perfection, his face a mask of barely concealed frustration as he raised token objections, each one carefully crafted to make Vizra dismiss them out of hand.
“I have already taken the eastern flank into consideration,” Vizra said, her voice hard. “Our scouts have reported no human activity in the area, but we will of course keep a close watch on that sector.”
Malekith bowed his head, a lock of midnight hair falling loose from its intricate braid. “As you wish, my lady. I only seek to ensure the success of our campaign.”
Aric’s stomach churned with a mixture of admiration for Malekith’s skill and a twinge of guilt for their manipulation. Vizra didn’t deserve an ounce of his respect. But this was the only way to end the war, to minimize the bloodshed on both sides. That was what Aric had to keep reminding himself, the weight of their actions sitting heavy on his conscience.
Pride swelled in Aric’s chest, despite the nerves that threatened to consume him. He and Malekith had come so far, from enemies to . . . something else, something Aric wasn’t quite ready to put a name to. But in that look, that silent exchange, he knew that Malekith understood. The risks they had taken, the dangers that still lay ahead. The unspoken bond that bound them together, stronger than any magic.
Vizra turned to address the gathered forces as they continued to pour from the portal behind them.
But Vizra’s moment of triumph was short-lived.
With a deafening crack, the rift wavered, its edges fraying and tearing asunder. The air around them vibrated with a low, ominous hum, and the ground began to shake. The humans had detected their approach, their wards resonating with power as they scrambled to mount a defense.
“Rally the troops!” Vizra bellowed, her voice laced with dark magic. “Hold the line!”
But it was too late. With one final groan, the rift collapsed in on itself, a blinding flash of white light swallowing the valley. The ground buckled and heaved as the raw magical energy of the rift’s destruction rippled through the air. Demons tumbled over one another, their bodies disintegrating into ash as they were wrenched back to the void. The magical stench in the air turned acrid, laced through with the sharp crackle of ozone. And all around them, the sounds of battle gave way to panicked screams and the anguished cries of the dying.
Only about half of the demonic forces had made it through the rift before it collapsed, and Aric’s heart ached for the thousands of demons who had been left behind. But there was no time to mourn them, no time to dwell on the staggering loss.
Because down in the valley below, the humans were charging, their ranks a glittering sea of steel in the moonlight.
Five
Aric watched as Vizra took command of the demon forces, her honey-hued skin aglow with the baleful light of her magic. Even as the portal collapsed prematurely, cutting off a portion of their vanguard, she showed no signs of panic. She turned to the other demon lords, her voice a silky hiss that set Aric’s teeth on edge.
“Advance. We will crush these Drindal defenders and claim the territory in the name of our lord.”
The other demons howled their assent, surging forward for the pathway down the mountain in a tide of scales and claws and fire.
Aric tore his gaze away from them and looked at Malekith, really looked at him. There was a hunger in his eyes, a fierce, wild light that made his usually refined elegance into something sharper, something with teeth to it. He was a vision of dark beauty and terrible power, and in that moment, Aric understood the pull of him that affected more than just Aric, the dangerous and icy allure that so many other demon courtiers seemed determined to thaw, and had made no qualms about letting Aric know as much.
But more than that, Aric saw the raw, unshielded hope in Malekith’s expression, the yearning for victory and a homecoming that he had sought for so long. It was a vulnerability that caught in Aric’s throat, a fierce, possessive ache to see it through, to bring Malekith everything he desired.
Malekith returned Aric’s stare with a nod, then spurred their monstrous steed forward to follow the demonic tide.
The narrow mountain pass wound through the heart of the jagged peaks, a yawning maw of stone and shadow that largely blocked their view of the town below them as they descended. The air was thin here, a fragile ribbon unraveled from the sky. But it was the unsettling hush of the other demons that put Aric on edge, as if even the demons now feared what might emerge from the dark.
Vizra rode at the head of the column, her honeyed scales shimmering in the faint trickle of moonlight. She was the picture of composure, but Aric caught the tension in her shoulders, the coiled readiness in her stance.
“You seem troubled, Lady Vizra,” Malekith said, keeping his voice low. “I thought you had full confidence in this plan.”
“I do,” Vizra said, her molten gold eyes never leaving the path ahead. “A slight setback, that’s all.”
Aric shivered, though he couldn’t say whether it was from the chill in the air or Vizra’s cryptic words. As if on cue, a cold gust of wind howled down the pass, carrying with it a faint, coppery scent.
“We have nowhere to fall back to now,” Malekith noted. “With the portal closed.”
“Then we have no choice but to advance.”
A low murmur ran through the ranks of the demon army, a frayed thread threatening to unravel. The other commanders cast nervous glances at Vizra, but she gave no sign that anything was amiss.
Aric scanned the rocky slopes, his heart hammering in his ears. He was all too aware of how exposed they were, with the sheer walls of stone rising on either side, and the thin trail that snaked through the darkness.
“Be ready,” Malekith said, his voice a soft hiss over his shoulder to Aric’s ears alone. “Something isn’t right.”
Aric nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. If even Malekith sensed the danger, then it was far more than just his imagination. He only wished he knew what form it would take.
Then, from high above, came the piercing cry of a war horn, shattering the silence of the pass.
Aric’s heart leapt into his throat. The next instant, the mountainsides were alive with movement, and the air was rent with the sound of human battle horns, echoing and intertwining in a savage melody.
“Form ranks!” Vizra bellowed, her magic spilling forth in a corona of flames.
But it was too late. The humans were already upon them, a tide of steel and fury pouring down the mountainsides.
The initial barrage of trebuchet fire carved a path of devastation through the demons’ ranks, the boulders flattening entire units, but the enemy was quick to regroup, and their archers and spellcasters rained death down on the demons from above. Vizra’s orders were lost in the chaos, the humans’ ambush too well-coordinated, too well-prepared.
“Aerial units, engage their archers!” she shouted, flames wreathing her form as she unleashed a torrent of fire. Winged monsters lurched skyward at her command. “Infantry, hold the line! No, wait—”
But it was no use. The demon units were fragmented, confused, the other columns too busy jockeying for position to coordinate a proper defense.
Malekith ground his teeth together as he scanned the battlefield, grasping at any hint of order, of a way to regroup, if Aric had to guess. But all he saw was the same sight Aric did: the broken bodies of his soldiers, the humans pressing in from all sides, and Vizra’s lieutenants bickering amongst themselves.
