Page 12 of Trial By Fire

Aric nodded, unable to speak past the sudden tightness in his throat. He knew the risks they were running, the enormity of the gamble they had made. But it was too late now, the die cast. All they could do was fight, and hope it was enough.

He turned back to the vast army spreading out before them, and braced himself for the coming storm.

A commotion rippled through the ranks of the demon forces as a new group approached. Approaching Malekith’s commander, General Vezara, was Vizra, gliding forward, her honey-colored skin aglow and molten gold eyes fixed on him like a predator’s. She needn’t approach for him to feel the sharp sting of her hatred, the raw jealousy that lashed behind it. She regarded Malekith with open disdain as they passed, and with a sinking feeling, Aric wondered if she’d just danced out of whatever trap Malekith had laid for her.

Vizra’s gaze held his for a brief moment, a wicked smile curving her blood-red lips, before she turned her attention back to her companion—a towering demon with skin like cracked obsidian and eyes that glowed with an unholy light. Aric’s blood ran cold as he recognized him. Lord Karthax. The Flayer.

They mounted the steps of the makeshift dais, the dark magic heaving through the air as Sovereign Zaxos turned his head toward them, eyes burning like liquid gold. Whether it was Aric’simagination or not, the temperature in the clearing seemed to rise. Zaxos, Malekith, Vezara, Karthax, and Vizra: the five most powerful demons in the realm gathered, now that Lord Darioth was gone, and Aric could only guess at the fury that burned between them.

The assembly area fell silent as the demons knelt before the sovereign. A cruel smile tugged at the corners of Vizra’s mouth as she rose.

“Sovereign.” Vizra bowed low, the sunlight playing over her sleek obsidian skin. “My commander, Lord Karthax, and I have devised a new strategy for my forces’ role in the coming campaign. With your blessing, I would ask that Lord Karthax be given command of the vanguard, with me as his second.”

Zaxos arched one brow as he regarded her. “Explain.”

Vizra straightened, her posture fluid and sinuous. “We will employ a series of flanking maneuvers, striking at the enemy’s weakest points while luring them into our trap in the valley just outside of Drindal. In this way, we can decimate their forward guard before we even lay siege to the town, allowing us to delay the moment we dismantle their wards. It is a high-risk strategy, but the potential rewards are great.”

“And the source of this intelligence?”

Vizra’s glanced briefly toward Aric before she answered. “My agents have been working tirelessly to gather information from the human realm.”

Zaxos studied her with a low hum before turning his attention to Karthax. The ancient demon’s expression was unreadable, his obsidian eyes like shards of black glass. He said nothing, but a low growl rattled in his barrel of a chest.

“Very well,” Zaxos said. “I will hear this out.”

Vizra began to outline the details of her plan in a low, honeyed voice. Aric strained to hear, but it was difficult to focus, his mind filled with a turbulent mix of emotions. Flankingmaneuvers. Surprise attacks. His gaze wandered to Malekith, whose hands were clenched at his sides, his face a mask. All, Aric realized with a shiver, signs of satisfaction papered over with a veneer of disdain.

Aric clenched his fists, the anxiety within him threatening to boil over. Vizra’s plan was playing directly into their hands, or at least, Aric hoped that was the case. She was reacting to what she believed was a trick by Malekith, only to do exactly as Malekith had hoped she would do. That had to be it—wasn’t it? But Aric couldn’t risk giving them any hint of his knowledge. He had to trust that Malekith had a plan to take advantage of this gift, that the prince was already several steps ahead.

When he glanced over at Malekith again, he found those dark eyes fixed on him, and the corner of Malekith’s mouth quirked up in a sly smile. Aric forced a matching smile onto his face, even as his heart raced with a heady mix of triumph and trepidation.

The Sovereign turned toward Malekith, and Aric shrank back in spite of himself. He might have been sizing up the prince, wondering what he would make of Vizra’s proposal. Was he fooled by Malekith’s gambit, as well? Or did he see it for what it was—his two chief commanders of this strike turning against one another when they should be united against their common foe?

Malekith stepped forward, his movements measured. “My lord,” he said, his voice carrying through the clearing. “I understand the importance of securing the vanguard, but I have concerns about Vizra’s plan.”

Zaxos gave a rumbling growl in response.

“I fear that our enemy might be prepared for such a tactic,” Malekith continued, his eyes never leaving Zaxos’s. “If they have taken any measures to counter our advance, we could be playing right into their hands.”

Aric held his breath as the Sovereign considered Malekith’s words. On the surface, it seemed like he was questioning the wisdom of Vizra’s strategy. But Aric knew that every word Malekith spoke was carefully chosen, a shadow play of double meanings and hidden intentions. Zaxos regarded Malekith with that unreadable, stony expression, and Aric felt a shiver run down his spine. This was it, the turning point they had been waiting for. If Zaxos saw through their ruse, it would all be for nothing. But if he bought into Malekith’s deception, then they just might have a chance.

The Sovereign inclined his head toward Vizra, and the tiniest of smiles played over her lips as she stepped forward. Aric’s stomach twisted with disgust—he could almost taste the sour thrill of Malekith’s reaction to her arrogance.

With a sinuous gesture, Vizra conjured a dark, shimmering portal in the air, the fiery runes of its power dancing like coiled snakes. “With your blessing, Sovereign,” she said, “we shall begin the ceremony to open the rift. But at the mountain clearing in my new proposal—not the southwestern field from Malekith’s plans.”

Zaxos regarded her for a long moment before giving a single nod. “You may. Proceed.”

Vizra briefly glanced toward Aric, her molten gold eyes glinting in the demonfire light. Triumphant. Aric shifted uncomfortably as she held his stare, taunting him, goading him.

Then, with a slow, elegant motion, Vizra sank to one knee at the base of the dais to cast the portal spell. Her slender fingers wove through the air, tracing out arcane patterns that glimmered and writhed like shadow-snakes. Aric watched, trying to make sense of both the magic behind it and the effect this change in plan would have on their first strike.

Malekith’s initial proposal had been to lure the forward-deployed human troops outside of Drindal so their combinedforces could cull their numbers before then turning their attention to the town itself, dismantling its wards in the process. But if Aric understood the papers he’d found in the library correctly, Malekith was secretly planning to advance his troops ahead of Vizra’s, allowing him to take the lead, and cutting Vizra off from his valuable support during that initial battle—and push straight onward to the town itself as soon as it was secured.

Now, Aric gathered, to prevent Malekith from embarrassing her forces, Vizra seemed intent on changing their deployment closer to Drindal so an early victory against the human vanguard would allow her to proceed straight to the wards and the town itself. But Aric knew that play was far riskier—and might run their forces right up against the wards far sooner than they intended. Before they were truly ready to set about dismantling them.

It was foolish, Aric knew, to hope that either option would minimize human casualties to the extent he wanted. But maybe, just maybe, the chaos and friction between the two demonic forces would give the humans of Drindal a fighting chance.

“Great forces of the void, hearken to my call,” Vizra intoned, her voice low and seductive as she worked the portal spell. “With blood and fire, I beckon thee.”

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