Chapter 56
Battle Ready
Elizabeth’s first impression of the Underworld was that the sky was on fire. The red, hazy air reeked of sulfur and smoke. Orange fires dotted the distant horizon over jagged black mountains.
Lucifer waited at the portal, holding out a muscular red arm.
As soon as she and Asmodeus touched Lucifer’s arm, the world twisted. One moment, a horrible squeezing sensation crushed her skin and lungs. The next, her senses quieted, and the world stood still.
A heartbeat later, her stomach heaved. She covered her mouth and retched, losing her lunch all over the barren rock.
Lucifer chuckled. “Mortals.”
Mastering herself, she wiped her chin and looked around. They stood on a rock platform, surrounded by legions of demons, shouting and raising their fists. A dark castle squatted on the horizon—their target.
“We’re in the fourth circle,” Asmodeus said helpfully from beside her. “The burning plains.”
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. She might 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 any other 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.
Elizabeth swallowed. How could they possibly win against a dragon?
Beside her, Asmodeus’s eyes widened, and she gathered that seeing a dragon wasn’t a common occurrence, even in the Underworld.
The dragon was enormous, with blood-red scales, a horned face, and muscular limbs ending in razor-sharp talons. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as it released another deafening roar.
The dragon was tethered to the castle by a chain that stretched for several hundred feet before pulling taut.
It strained against the restraint, muscles bulging with the effort.
Grudgingly, the dragon returned to the battlefield, circling above the castle.
A thick collar encircled its neck, keeping it leashed to its master.
Good gods.
They had thought this mission would be quick and straightforward. The demon princes had assured her that they had enough forces to win.
However, it appeared they had greatly underestimated Raziel’s army and had not known about the dragon. The dragon alone could change the tide of the war, and, judging by its sheer size and the ferocity with which it fought its leash, it could decimate their army with ease.
As if her traitorous thoughts spoke it into existence, the dragon unleashed a torrent of flame on their left flank. Demons howled and the smell of burning flesh rent the air. The enemy took courage from the dragon's attack and doubled their efforts with renewed vigor.
When one of their fighters made it to the castle gate, the dragon lumbered over and surveyed the scene. Both sides watched and waited. The dragon blew a gust of flame through its nostrils, bathing the demon at the gate in fire. The demon howled.
An enemy in a black horned helmet struck the dragon with a barbed metal crop. Again! the dragon handler seemed to say.
The dragon blinked and engulfed the world in flame.
The wails of demons dying before the dragon's arrival were nothing compared to the screams of demons being burned alive. The smell of burning flesh was—
Elizabeth ran to the platform’s edge, retching. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, hoping no one noticed. Even her demon companions looked green.
The dragon picked up one of their fighters, chomped him down like a tasty morsel, and snorted smoke. It spat out metal projectiles—a helmet, and a squashed iron breastplate.
Asmodeus swallowed hard.
If we can’t neutralize the dragon, we lose, and Caspian will stay trapped in that castle forever.
Elizabeth exhaled sharply, unable to see a solution. The dragon was currently immolating fifty demons, their shrieks of terror echoing through the air.
“Not with a dragon,” Abbadon snapped at the other princes, arguing over battle plans. “If we can’t get into the castle, there is no sense in waiting around while a dragon murders half our forces.”
“Now we understand how Raziel amassed such power and fear,” Lucifer mused. “I wonder how he captured a dragon and bent it to his will.”
“Many demons who would not trust a newly Fallen angel might reconsider once they see this,” Belphegor said, watching with interest as the dragon unleashed another torrent of flame onto their ranks.
Abbadon cursed and spat. “We want to help Betsael, Lucifer, but we cannot win against such odds!”
“We must fight,” Lucifer said firmly, darting a wary glance at Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth, what in the Seven Hells did you offer him?” Asmodeus whispered sharply out of the corner of his mouth.
She ignored him, mind racing.
When the demon king had sent that flurry of mind speech, he had made it seem like a small price. If this was what his half of the bargain looked like, she didn’t want to know how challenging her side would be to fulfill. Now, she wondered if it had been wise to agree so quickly.
But I gave my word.
And, for better or worse, if she lived through today, she would have to keep it.
She chewed her lip and surveyed the carnage.
“I will not risk my entire household on this fool’s mission,” Abbadon snarled, jerking her out of her thoughts.
Asmodeus looked over at her and sadly shook his head.
They were thinking of leaving.
What am I not seeing?
The gods would not bring her so close to saving him only for her to fail. She forced herself to watch demons being cut down like stalks of wheat, gritting her teeth against the bile that rose in her throat. Dark blood sprayed, and more bodies piled up on both sides of the plains.
There was an answer. There had to be.