Hump gazed down upon the advancing army of Alveron from where he stood atop a shallow hill, the plains of red grass before Hell’s Pocket spread out before him. The air shuddered with the beat of drums. Hump sensed essence in the sound—divine power carried in the constant pounding, enhancing every member of the army. It was rich with intent: fearlessness, strength, courage. The boon was weak, not enough to stir Hump’s own body, but it would do much for ordinary soldiers. Even for him, a little of his anxiety fell away. The hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach left him and a sense of calm descended. Faint excitement filled him, and he saw it in the eyes of the soldiers around him too. The beast of Alveron had awoken, and it was not afraid… it was angry.
General Korteg marched ahead, seeming a towering figure now in his red armour, cloaked in his blessings. His gait appeared larger, his movements strong and fast. Behind him, the army marched to the boom of the drums, a tide of silver steel upon red fields. The air around them was alight with divine power—blessings and the aura of the shrines forming a haze of all colours that swept forward. Hump wondered how the demons saw it. To them, it must seem as if the gods were truly there, their armies sweeping forward with the mist.
But there were no gods here, only brave men and women that sought to protect their homes and families. Hump clutched tightly to his staff, his eyes flicking to the citadel as magic gathered overhead.
“It is a mighty sight, isn’t it?” Bud said, a ferocious grin on his face. “I have never seen something so magnificent.”
“It really is,” Dylan said, eyes fixed on the scene. “Even when Fort Nordric was besieged, we didn’t see such strength.”
“The battle hasn’t even begun yet,” Celaine said. “I’ve spotted a few greater demons within the walls. I think they’re keeping hidden.”
“No doubt waiting for an opportune moment,” Emilia said. “If they find a chance to strike while the army is compact like this, it will be devastating.”
Bud shook his head. “They will not make it through our defences. They cannot.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Hump sensed the essence in the air over Hell’s Pocket. “The demons are preparing their magic. The army is in range now.”
Dread filled Hump as thousands of soldiers spread out before the walls, a line of spears and shields that seemed unending. More were kept in reserve, ready to take the place of those that fell, or pour in behind them through a breach. Almost five thousand in total, not counting the Daston regiment. It was an impressive force, but he lacked Bud’s confidence. Being packed in tightly like that made them vulnerable to everything the demons could throw at them.
Catapults upon the walls launched flaming projectiles that brimmed with essence. Magic gathered overhead, forming great balls of purple fire, waves of arcane might, and streams of various elements. All fell upon the army at once. The blessing and magic of Chosen and practitioners rose at once to meet it, while others started their own attacks—dark spheres of death, blazing fireballs, floods of miasma. The battle between spellcasters had begun.
The ground shook beneath Hump’s feet, a constant quaking as if the earth itself was erupting with fury. Thunderous booms and cracks filled the air as most spells broke against the defensive blessings that covered the soldiers. The magic ricocheted in explosive bursts, spells shattering in all directions as they collided with the defences. Yet even divinity was not perfect. A catapult stone shattered upon impact, splitting into dozens of flaming essence stones that pierced the blessings and fell amongst the soldiers in a hail of shrapnel. Bodies were crushed. Hump saw a man’s head blown clean off, his body toppling slowly to the ground. Others screamed and flailed as they were set alight, healers moving in quickly to put out the blazes and do what they could to save their lives.
It was a terrifying sight, but the tide of steel did not slow. The red field quickly disappeared as soldiers filled it, General Korteg still leading the way. His great sword carved through magic and stones alike, forcing his way ahead fearlessly.
“Father,” Marcela said.
Count Daston shook his head. “Hold. Our time has not come.”
Marcela had a pained expression. Hump knew her thoughts—her people were dying, while they stood there watching.
Still, Hump and the others waited for Count Daston’s command. Minutes passed. The army neared the walls, armoured bodies trailing behind them, their blood hidden amidst the red grass. Archers were in range now, loosing arrows at the demons upon the battlements. Other soldiers placed wooden barriers before them, enchanted with the runes of Loften to resist enemy magic, forming a hurried formation. There, earth wielders started work on trenches, creating what cover they could.
As the army neared, the living wall grew excited. Its many eyes stirred constantly, shifting between everyone before it. Some of its mouths were open, salivating with hunger, others smiled, or bared their teeth. Its arms opened and closed their hands, grasping in excitement. Trebuchets impacted it, focusing ahead of the army and trying to make a breach, but its wounds were healed in moments. The damage they had dealt the previous week had been nothing to it.
Upon the battlements, a catapult burst asunder as a trebuchet struck it perfectly.
Count Daston turned from the battlefield and looked over the regiment. Unarmoured and without a weapon, he was a stark contrast to General Korteg. The hulking man was pure muscle, with skin and flesh tougher than any armour, and fists that could shatter the skulls of a greater demon if given the chance. His hair was long and the same dark brown as Marcela’s, swaying gently in the wind of essence.
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“It is time,” the man said. His voice was not loud, but it was clear to every person there, carried with his intent. “All of you know our task and the importance of it.” His eyes roamed over the soldiers, the breach team under the command of Owen, Lady Fenris and the other Chosen of Osidium, until they finally landed on Hump. “May the gods be with us this day.”
With that, their regiment was moving. Eight hundred of them would attack to the left of where most of the rest of the army were gathered. A second regiment were already in position farther to the left, entrenched and with barriers setup before them. Their job was to draw enemy attention and establish a route to the walls to reduce losses in the Daston regiment on approach.
“Take to the skies, Hump told Nishari. Do not go near the castle, and return if anything comes close.”
Nisha pressed against his leg affectionately and then flapped her wings. Soldiers stepped back from them as she flew upward. At least there, she was out of the focus of the enemy and away from their bombardment.
The soldiers packed tighter around Hump and his party. He was somewhere in the centre of the line, a few ranks back from Count Daston. The Blackthorne company were at their rear, while Marcela’s company took the left flank, and a third led by Anara was on the right. Hump caught only glimpses of the battle from amongst the soldiers. Now that they were moving, his height left him struggling to see anything substantial. The stink of oil and metal stung at his nostrils like blood.
Magic and fire filled the air before him, yet he could hardly make out its direction from where he was squashed between soldiers. His heart hammered. He held his breath with each explosive boom and quake of the earth. The world felt like it was closing in and that he would be crushed. He hated not being able to see what was going on. If an attack was on its way, he wouldn’t even see it in time to raise a Shield. But Bud stood before him, a bastion against such things, and Count Daston was the greatest defender in their entire army. In many ways, there was no safer place on the battlefield than where Hump now stood.
Nisha gave Hump a glimpse of the battle from above. The army of Alveron filled the plains with a tide of bodies so thick he could barely make out the red grass below. Smoke and essence rose in great plumes across the ground, but it was nothing compared to the fires that raged in the citadel. Much of the outer sectors were consumed by it. Hump could hardly make out the details in the flash of images she sent him, but he saw demons pouring magic over the flames to try and quell them. Others raced through the city like a nest of ants that had been kicked open, packing the walls tightly and filling the streets. Large areas had been cleared where stone fortifications or barriers now stood, restricting access to the inner citadel where the larger and more lavish dwellings stood.
As they neared the walls, Hump could make out the faces of the demons upon it. Most were imps or blood horrors, the latter using bows and arrows, their attacks doing little to the Chosen of Avaroth that led the charge. Count Daston all but ignored them, his body impervious to such attacks. Instead, he protected those around him while avoiding drawing attention to himself. The moment the enemy realised he was here, their plan to lure their forces elsewhere would fail.
It was through flashes of imagery Nisha sent him that Hump saw greater demons finally making their appearance, their powerful magics assaulting the gathered soldiers to the right. So far, the plan was working. Attention was on the rest of the army more so than the Daston regiment.
Hump sensed a change before he saw it. The chaotic essence that stormed the battlefield suddenly became still. For a few seconds, he couldn’t comprehend what could cause such a thing, but then he sensed the intent within. Someone—something—had claimed it. Activating Spirit Sight eyes searched the walls, finding a figure directly in front of General Korteg—a man with wings. Immediately, Hump was reminded of Karlac: human features, batlike wings, and an essence so deep and rich the world paled around him.
“Devil!” came the shout of one of Count Daston’s aides.
The creature raised its arms, black hair blowing on its head. It appeared tiny against the backdrop of the citadel, yet its power made it shine like a beacon to Hump’s Spirit Sight. Hump formed a mental wall, resisting the evil intent that pervaded the essence around him. Its power gathered until the air around it was so thick that it obscured everything behind it from view.
Even as the devil gathered its power, blasts of fire and rays of light shot at it from General Korteg’s regiments, yet they broke harmlessly upon its defences. A wave of blue surged—Kelisia’s might sweeping up and over the wall—the frostfire flames freezing lesser demons upon the battlement and forming a spike of ice like a giant’s claw that struck the devil. The moment it touched it, the claw shattered into a thousand pieces, dissipating into essence.
“This is no ordinary devil,” Hump said to his party members. “Focus your blessings.” He raised his voice. “Marcela, Owen, Anara—this attack isn’t something ordinary soldiers can defend against. Use your strongest defences.”
To the left, Len formed a barrier that guarded the front left side of the line. Flowers filled the air as Anara released her blessing, one falling upon Hump to help protect him from harm. Hump raised his own Shield around his party, while Bud, Dylan, and the others of the Blackthorne company shrouded the troops in their blessings.
Finally, the devil responded. A rippling purple wave erupted from its hands, descending upon the army. It descended upon the general. From there, Hump saw nothing of the man’s response, but he saw Count Daston step up to meet it. Even hundreds of paces down the wall, the wave came closer, sweeping out like a river through a broken dam. Count Daston’s retinue formed up at his side, their blessings rising to resist it. The wave came closer—a chilling aura radiating from it that made Hump feel as if death approached.
Far to the right, explosions of essence went up. From Nisha’s view, he caught a glimpse of General Korteg and the other powerful people resisting a great wave of purple that swept out from the walls. It came closer still to the Daston company, as fast as the tide. The Chosen at Count Daston’s side were blasted to their knees by the force, yet the wave did not make it through.
Count Daston roared as a great barrier formed before him, taking the image of a towering shield, adorned with complex patterns and runes. Energy exploded on impact. Hump gasped at the power, leaning against his staff as his Shield took the brunt of it. The air turned to chaos once more. Where the wave made contact, it was as if it drained the essence, swallowing it up, yet its power was resisted.
To the right, General Korteg’s portion of the army was not so lucky. Where the front ranks had resisted the wave, they had not been able to repel it, only deflect it outward. It spread, engulfing hundreds along the flanks of the army. They did not even scream as the wave swallowed them. One moment they were there, the next gone. As the wave dissipated, its power diminished by the many Chosen and practitioners working together to stop it, there was nothing left in its wake. No sign of the soldiers it had killed, no army, no weapons. It was as if they had never been.
“What is that?” Emilia said quietly, her voice filled with horror.
“The demon lord,” Dylan said. “It must be. What else could possess such power.”
“It’s about time it revealed itself,” Bud snarled, Heart of Frostfire blazing around him, turning the air cold.