TO BEWITCH A DEVIL - Chapter 292 What are those?

Chapter 292  What are those?

“I have dreamed of this day almost my entire life,” Uriel’s eyes gleamed.

Metals clanged against metals, horses neighed, and men screamed as knives tore through flesh. Uriel surged forward, and Zavian rammed at him with a sword.

Behind the King, a Selesee soldier had sneaked up and tried to drive the sword through Zavian’s side, and in a second, the soldier’s head was rolling through the stampede of feet.

Uriel snarled, and Zavian could see how his rage blinded his brother’s control. His eyes turned flame red, and his canines bared, the grip on the blade tight. Zavian was fast to slash his blade through the two Selesee soldiers barrelling at him, their blood spraying his clothes.

His sword came up just as Uriel’s own rose to meet him.

Something came shooting to him from high in the sky, and before Zavian could move out of the sword lock with his brother, Freya shot her arrow, carrying the explosive back to where a crowd of Selesee soldiers was packed.

And then, a blast of fire swept the soldiers, and their screams were death itself.

“Focus on Aloysius,” Freya yelled above the swishes and hisses of swords and screams. She rode to Zavian’s side, her face streaked with blood. “I will handle Uriel. Kill Aloysius, and the war will be over.”

“I would like to see you try,” Uriel said, shooting to Zavian once again.

Freya stood on her horse, and leaped, crashing herself into Uriel, and they both tumbled to the ground, their falls cushioned by the dead soldiers. Freya rose, two swords in each hand, and Uriel was beyond pissed at her distraction from Zavian.

Zavian cut, slashed, gutted the enemy’s soldiers, and all the while, keeping his eyes peeled for Aloysius. The demon was nowhere in sight, and neither was Lydia. Something was amiss, and he needed to save more of his men from what was to come.

Smoke and fire mixed with blood and screams. Zavian spotted Azriel slicing the head off a dark horse, and black blood spilled as it thudded to the ground.

“Azriel!” Zavian rode to him. “Make sure the enemies are slain and fast. Aloysius is up to something, and this isn’t the real battle.”

Azriel’s face turned grim. “He disappeared.”

“I know,” Zavian watched Freya roll back just as Uriel’s sword seethed at her head. “We are winning, we need to keep going.”

And so, they became a tempest, slaying through the enemies, the battlefield baptized in blood and innards. An arrow sliced through the air and embedded itself in Azriel’s leg.

The General Commander had to hold the reins to keep him from falling.

“Azriel!” Zavian was panicked. “Are you okay? Is it poisoned?”

Azriel winced as he reached for the arrow and pulled it out, blood wetting his pants. “It is going to take more than that to kill me.”

And so, the number of the enemies reduced over the hours, and Uriel retreated on his horse. Victory taunted them easily, hanging in the air like a mirage. Their pre-battle training had been thorough, and as Azriel pulled out his sword from the gut of a Darstun soldier, Zavian saw his gaze trail off behind him and his eyes grow wide.

Zavian turned his horse around, and just like the size of Alyosius’s first army, another laid before them, charging.

….

Neera wanted to pace, but the ground was covered with people. People huddled together, people hugging each other, people rolling themselves into balls and covering their ears with fists as the walls above them shook, and the smoke had permeated its way into the chamber.

She looked at Penelope, and her friend was rocking a sleeping child. He slept soundly in her arms, and Neera imagined Penelope as the mother. She would make a great one, Neera thought, for she could rock a child to sleep in the middle of a war. Neera hoped children would come with her and Azriel’s marriage, even if they adopted them.

As if she knew she was thinking about her, Penelope’s head turned in her direction, a feeble smile offered as comfort.

“What do you think is going on up there?” Neera asked just as dust rained from the ceiling above.

Penelope was quiet for a long time, and when she spoke, her voice was filled with determination.

“I think we are going to win,” she said. “I think this war will be the end of Aloysius and the start of a better world for us all.”

Neera saw as Penelope hugged the child closer. She was scared; her colour had taken a sour pale look, making her add years to her age.

But Neera’s restless spirit squirmed and thrashed to be let out. Behind the iron doors of the chambers, she tried to find a strategy to fool the guards so she can be up there, fighting side-by-side with Zavian.

She didn’t care if he told her not to; she couldn’t sit in one place and wait for the war to end. She could do something, she could help in some way. She just needed to see for herself instead of sitting and doing nothing. She could hide and watch from the castle.

She rose so fast that every eye in the room turned to her, widened with shock.

“Neera?” Penelope called. When she saw the determined look in Neera’s eyes, she paled even more. “No, please, don’t leave. You heard what the King said!”

“I will be back, I promise,” Neera shushed her.

“No!” Penelope scrambled to rise, the child in her arm stirring. “No, please…”

But Neera was hurrying to the door, and she pulled one heavy lock after the other and shifted the heavy door open.

….

“What are those?” Azriel asked, gripping his sword with renewed vigour.

The creatures staggered and swayed drunkenly, gurgling sounds filling the air as they drew closer like a ravenous plague of savages. Their heads rotated on their necks like chickens with wry necks. Rotting flesh and sludge reeked off their artic white skins.