“You’ll never win against Azazel,” one muttered. “He’s too powerful, and we’re not stupid enough to put our faith in a Druid, a succubus, some blood-suckers, and some cats!”
He drew his sword and lunged at me, bringing the blade down. Draven moved to protect me, but I pushed him away and launched a powerful barrier, knocking the incubus and the other five soldiers off their feet.
The Maras intervened with their mind-bending tricks, enough for Hansa, Jasmine, and Jax to knock most of them out. Two incubi were quite resilient and fast, darting from one side to the other so quickly the Maras couldn’t capture their minds.
Unfortunately for them, the Bajangs coming from behind were bigger and faster. Two of them pounced on the incubi, sinking their fangs into their throats. I heard their spines crack before they were tossed on the floor like ragdolls.
“They sure come in handy.” I muttered my appreciation to Rebel as we ran up the stairs.
We did the same on every level, wherever we encountered hostiles. We had a good strategy going with the Maras and the Bajangs. We took down Destroyers and the incubi who resisted, and we let the others go. The more rebels on the inside, the bigger the surprise for Azazel.
There were green flames burning everywhere, but Jasmine and Draven frequently blew them out as we advanced through the main hallway of the tenth level. We needed to reach another set of service stairs, closer to the central tower that led to the top.
We moved fast, our boots barely touching the floor.
The drums were beating frantically below. The horns were moaning every five minutes or so. I could hear the chainmail zinging, the clangs and screeches of swords and shields, the thumps and grunts of soldiers moving around, rushing to get to their stations.
I kept my focus on Phoenix, Vita, and Aida, waiting for us upstairs.
Almost there, guys. Almost there…
Field
I’d spent several hours perched on top of a giant purple tree, keeping myself under the cover of leaves as I overlooked the entire region.
Luceria loomed ahead, surrounded by rolling hills and deep jungles, its black walls glistening in the sunlight. Thick black columns of smoke rose from its towers, and from campfires around the base. Thousands of incubi had been dispatched on a one-mile radius around the castle, while dozens of Destroyers swarmed above, circling the massive structure and hissing savagely as they looked around for rebel forces.
The green fireflies flew in wide ribbons across the hills, moving up and down as they scanned the area on behalf of Azazel.
My shifters sat close to me, on two separate branches. They looked like me, though their eyes glowed violet as they looked around, waiting patiently to be deployed. I gripped the sculpted handle of my hatchet, shuddering from the creeps I got every time I looked at them. It was extremely weird and uncomfortable to look at these two versions of myself, and yet, at the same time, impressive. They were up there with me, ready to hack and slash at anyone who tried to harm me.
Below, hidden beneath large swatches of dark green forest, were allied forces—Bajangs, Maras, Tritones, imps, succubi, and even incubi, all waiting for my signal. I pulled my satchel open, and handed the shifters several small pouches with fuses attached, along with matches.
Mount Zur rested quietly in the south, and Mount Inon farther down, smoke and ashes rising from their incandescent peaks.
“I’ve shown you how to use these, so you know what you have to do, right?” I asked the shifters.
They looked at the pouches that Draven had filled with flammable powders, then back at me. They nodded, grins slitting their faces. My faces. Ugh.
When Jovi’s voice came through, I took a deep breath and stood up on the branch. It creaked under my weight as I stretched my wings and strapped the hatchet to my belt. I left the opening loose on my satchel to give me easy access to the many pouches left, so I could pop them out and easily set them on fire during my flight.
“It’s show time, fellas,” I said to the shifters, who immediately sprang to their feet.
I took off in a clockwise trajectory around the castle. I kept a one-mile distance from it, but I was soon spotted by a pack of Destroyers, who changed their direction and darted toward me, their horses neighing and their poisoned spears drawn.
The shifters headed out and intercepted them from two different angles. For a split second, the Destroyers were temporarily confused by their resemblance to me—the split second that the shifters needed to sink their poisoned teeth into their horses. One by one, the stallions fell. The shifters moved fast, dodging spears and swords as they kicked several Destroyers off their mounts and ripped others’ throats out. It wasn’t enough to kill them, but definitely enough to incapacitate them.
I grinned as I flew forward, Destroyers dropping behind me. I started lighting the pouches one by one, tossing each into the air. They blew up in colorful fireworks—they drew the attention of the other Destroyers circling the castle, but they also signaled to the alliance that they could move toward the castle.
I glanced back at Mount Zur and the distant Inon, and saw their peaks die out. The Dearghs were doing their part, putting the volcanoes to sleep and cutting off Azazel’s power supply. I could almost hear Azazel’s veins popping from where I was.
Below, I noticed movement. The incubi were spread out in rectangular divisions, the drums thudding violently behind them. More Destroyers came after me, but I kept an irregular flight pattern, while more fireworks exploded behind me. My shifters were doing a fine job on their own, so I increased my speed to gain some distance and light up some more, as I’d only covered half of my trajectory.
The allied armies began spilling out of the woods beneath us. Hundreds of them, roaring and charging the confused incubi on each side. A couple thousand Tritones had made it, launching rapid and bloody attacks on the north side. The Lamias came in hot from the west, accompanied by succubi and Grezzi’s incubi troops.
Explosions rocked the east side, splitting the small valley between the two hills flanking the castle, with Maras, Bajangs, and incubi pouring in from the woods. Imps staggered among them, setting small explosive devices on fire and throwing them at Azazel’s incubi.
A few dozen Destroyers swooped down, their spears piercing several rebels and their swords coming down hard, and more came out of the castle. The horns of war were constantly blowing. Blades clashed, thousands of arrows shot through the sky, and more explosions spread along the south side, making the ground quiver. Azazel had gathered his monsters from all over Calliope to strengthen his defenses.
I lit up more pouches and threw them over my shoulder. They blew up in millions of colorful flashes—just in time, too, as several Destroyers were gaining on me. The pouches exploded in their faces, burning and blinding them. Their horses jerked back, scared by the loud bangs, throwing the riders off. I watched them fall, their thick serpent tails flailing desperately.
The Lamias used their Druid magic, taking on clusters of incubi with simmering fireballs and energy pulses. The soldiers were fast and ruthless, but many were not strong enough to resist a plethora of combined forces, as Bajangs pounced from behind, shredding them to pieces across the battlefield.
The Maras used their mind-bending tricks to confuse their opponents, while Grezzi’s incubi infiltrated their ranks and killed them from within. The Tritones were incredibly fierce, gliding across the tall grass and launching their flaming arrows at the Destroyers above and the incubi guarding one of the castle’s gates.
The succubi were even more brutal, going straight for the incubi’s throats as the alliance forces tightened around the castle and pushed the soldiers back. More explosions ripped through the south side as Destroyers converged and launched another wave of poisoned spears. The allies roared and sent out a rain of arrows. I couldn’t help but squirm at the sight of the sharp projectiles piercing through eyes and throats like needles through fabric.
Dark red blood sprayed from above as Destroyers fel
l. Dark red blood glazed the grass below, as hundreds of allied troops fell, mingled with the silver blood of even more incubi. Thundering roars sent chills down my spine; I looked back and saw Dearghs tumbling into battle.
The massive stone giants had abandoned their volcanoes, using what was left of their energy to fire themselves up and set every hostile in their path ablaze. The Destroyers knew better than to try to go after the Dearghs, from what I could tell. They pulled back and focused on the other species coming after them.
More incubi and Destroyers came out through the front gates, shouting as they ran into battle. Limbs were lost. Lives were cast into the wind. It was brutal but necessary, and the alliance came in harder, energized by the imps’ lethal tricks and the dozen Dearghs sweeping through Azazel’s armies.
Bright green fireballs were cast from the castle walls, splashing onto the allies and swallowing them like liquid flames. I could hear their screams, the smell of burning flesh spreading out swiftly and making my stomach churn.
The skies grew dark above, black and gray clouds swirling in as lighting split the sky open. The green flames shrank in size but continued to shoot out of the castle. However, their aim got sloppier, and they wound up killing dozens of Azazel’s incubi and even engulfing a flying horde of Destroyers on the east side.
I had a feeling that was the last spurt of large-scale magic that Azazel could use against us, now that he’d been left without the Daughter or the volcanoes. I flew over the fights raging below a couple more times, drawing Destroyers after me. I slowed down, enough to give them the impression that they were going to catch up, before I did tight drops and brought them face to face with an angry Deargh.
I heard the beasts yelp behind me as I passed the Deargh and glanced over my shoulder. The Destroyers scrambled to fly away, but the stone giant burst into enormous flames and ran his fist through the horde, lighting them up as he crushed them into the ground. I then heard the shifters tittering beneath me.
With no intention of spoiling their fun, I let them repeat the pattern and taunt Destroyers into following them until they wound up in close proximity to the other Dearghs.
The battle raged on. Many of the incubi soon realized that they weren’t going to win. Too many forces had come together, armies that no one had thought would ever get along. The Destroyers, however, were relentless in their defenses—at least, until they were nabbed by Dearghs or pulled off their horses.
Further proof of Azazel’s loss of power came forward when the green fireflies started dying out, swarms upon swarms turning into lifeless little black insects that rained down on the fighters below.
The succubi and the Lamias had been instructed to try to take some of the Destroyers alive. The imps had brought in some interesting snare traps—it required a team effort, Lamias teasing and succubi running around and distracting the Destroyers until they could get them within the traps’ range. When the ropes were released, however, they slapped down so hard that the beasts were stuffed into the tall grass, unable to move as the trap mechanism twisted in rapid motions and tightened the ropes around them.
They couldn’t do that to all the Destroyers, but if they were able to gather at least ten or twenty of them, it was considered a success. From what information we’d gathered from the Druid archives, once Azazel’s control spell was broken from the source, the Destroyers would shift back to their original Druid forms, regaining their freedom. We needed as many as we could save, to rebuild Eritopia.
One by one, the Dearghs slowed in their attacks, the energy inside them dimming like flickering candle lights. I slowed near one of them, measuring him from giant head to massive toe.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
The Deargh nodded slowly with a heavy breath.
“Getting tired. My energy is running low. I’ll be nothing more than a statue soon…”
My chest ached at the sight of his and his brothers’ sacrifice. We couldn’t let them down. They were giving us everything they had in this war. We had to win. We had to give the world back to them.
We’d come so far. The ground outside Luceria was more or less covered by our troops. The allies were closing in, despite their casualties. The determination and resilience of oppressed nations were far stronger than troops driven by one crazy Destroyer’s tyranny. I could see it in their eyes.
They had nothing to lose, other than their lives. But no life was worth living if it was to be spent in agony, in fear, in shackles, and in hopelessness. The Bajangs, the Maras, the succubi, the Lamias, the Tritones, even the Dearghs still standing and the rebel incubi—they all had the fire burning in their eyes, the flame of hope, the blaze of yearning for freedom.
It was there, unleashing itself on the battlefield with every arrow shot, with every sword brought down, with every throat ripped out. Azazel’s armies were fighting to defend a tyrant. Most of their hearts weren’t in it. Their weapons were driven by fear and dirty magic.
We fought with our souls, on the other hand. We killed with our hearts.
Azazel
I wasn’t always like this…
The mirror in front of me showed me someone I still couldn’t get used to, someone I’d been forced to coexist with for centuries. Someone I’d allowed to become me because the reality of my weakness had been unbearable. My insufficiency had chipped away at my soul, leaving a black hole on the inside that needed to be filled. I was always hungry, and nothing sated me better than power.
Raw, unapologetic power.
I could hear them outside. Swords cutting through flesh and bone. Explosions tearing the hills apart. Stone giants burning my Destroyers alive.
I’d felt Nova’s departure deep in my core. The emptiness I’d once smothered with electrifying ribbons of pure pink energy once again howled in my head. The moment they broke the pendant I’d linked to her very essence was the moment I’d experienced a new, different kind of pain. It cut through me like an incandescent blade, burning my insides as they stripped me of her power.
By the time I got to her room, she was gone, the windows wide open and the curtains fluttering in the wind. The traitors roaming through my castle. My domain.
Then the volcanoes died down. One by one, I felt their amber fires leave me, softening my bones and forcing my shoulders to drop. They’d done it. I couldn’t believe it, but they’d done it.
I had three perfectly functional Oracles in my possession, along with that whimpering mess named Abrille, and yet I couldn’t prevent this. They’d done it. They’d taken the Daughter away. They’d persuaded the Dearghs to, I assumed, sacrifice themselves and strip me of a considerable amount of my power.
I heard the turmoil outside and the clashes below. Incubi were deserting their posts, though Destroyers were forced to stay loyal to me and kill those who tried to flee. The Druid was somewhere nearby—I could almost smell his arrogance wafting through the air. Loud bangs made my castle shudder. My Luceria was under siege.
The bastards…
My throne room felt cold. The green fire in my cauldron had died out. I couldn’t see through the flames anymore. Rage engulfed me, and I kicked the cauldron down, its dark, pungent liquid contents spilling across the black marble floor. The proprietary blend of dead creatures’ bones turned to dust and mixed with fae blood and poisonous herbs had been rendered useless without the energy I’d drawn from volcanoes. No longer could I fire it up and look through every green flame it provided.
A large painting of me rested on the wall to my left. It showed me in my younger days, when I’d just been given the keys to the Third Kingdom of Purgaris. My hair was long, combed back and brought together in a braided tail reaching down to my lower back. My eyes were bright, like two suns, my skin pale in contrast with the trimmed black beard and mustache I had sported at the time. I’d opted for a dark green velvet suit when I’d posed for that portrait, consisting of riding pants, a waistcoat, and a fitting tailcoat, complemented by a crisp white shirt and knee-high leather boots.
That version of me had died the moment I’d said yes to Asherak. I kept the portrait because it was the only physical image of myself that was left. The others had been burned in the wars that followed.
I looked handsome…
The mirror showed me someone else. The real Azazel.
My yellow eyes. My slick black hair. My massive frame and braided beard. My bare chest. A hundred black discs tattooed on my arms, once the distinction of a Master Druid. My lower body glistening, covered in black scales as the tip of my tail twitched nervously. And Asherak’s pendant flowing in its endless loop.
My savior. My punisher. My master.
I wasn’t always like this…
I had been a sensible little Druid. My mother hadn’t loved me much. She’d thought I was too sensible. That I’d never amount to anything. My father had had his tattoos burned off his skin—all twenty of them. He hadn’t even made it into the twenty-first level when he’d first used his powers in corruption, trading favors for land and soldiers. Of course, he had been caught. A few years in prison had brought him back a changed Druid.
A violent creature, filled with frustration and contempt. I’d never liked him, but when he started hitting me, I learned how to hate him. It was my mother who’d added fuel to my flame, to my desire to break free and rid myself of their pathetic existence. She’d blamed my father’s shortcomings on me. I was too soft. I brought shame to them.
It wasn’t my father’s string of wrongdoings. It was little Azazel, who was too soft, too gentle to defend himself. They poked and prodded me until I reached my limit.
I showed them. I showed them both.
The world didn’t even notice they were gone. But I was free. And I swore to myself that I would never allow myself to be weak or poor or powerless again. My voyage to power and wealth began at an early age. Unfortunately, my Druid magic skills were well below the Grand Temple acceptance limits. For years I struggled to get in, only to be repeatedly turned away.
A Shade of Vampire 50: A Clash of Storms Page 9
