Hellion's Reckoning

As they marched through the forest, Ailog delighted in the sound of fleeing hellions. His army chased them through its shadowed depths. They left the wards wide open, allowing Ailog’s two thousand strong army to come charging in. Most of the city’s army had refused to join, a crime he would deal with upon his return. The bulk had already deserted, headed for Knivae to join the royal army. There was nothing he could do to stop that; the king was happy to accept more. He could at least play it off as a gift for all his majesty’s kindness.

Ailog had not come this far, taken a city, only to be stopped by a mere thousand soldiers. crimson dragon had gifted them his power and with Sylvis on his side, they would never dream of betraying him. With his enemy fleeing in terror before him, he imagined the statues they would build, the poems they would tell of his glorious campaign. With this victory his fame would soar and with Sylvis by his side, they could even take Knivae, overthrow the king. His mind raced with possibilities as his lips grew into a triumphant smile.

Towering wooden walls rose before him, the gates wide open as they fled out into the forest. “Not so fierce now, are you?” He chuckled as his soldiers poured into the empty camp. “My lord!” someone cried, hurrying to meet his carriage pulled by two mighty white horses. “Maenads have struck our rear!” the soldier said, falling to his knees. There was fear in the man’s eyes as he trembled. He had seen the wild women spring out and mercilessly tear through his fellow soldiers.

Ailog growled, and his heart pounded. “A trap,” he said as the doors to the fort closed behind them. A low whistle crept through the fort as flaming arrows rained down. As the flaming arrows pierced the air and ignited the oil-soaked structures within the fort, chaos erupted. The once triumphant atmosphere quickly turned into a scene of panic and desperation.

His heart raced as he realized the dire situation they were in. Those devils set a clever trap, and now his army found themselves trapped within a fiery inferno. The soldiers scrambled, trying to escape the consuming flames that surrounded them. “We must fight our way out!” The Prefect shouted, trying to rally his troops as the heat intensified and the smoke choked the air. With determination, he led the charge towards the gates.

He looked on with horror as his carriage raced through the fort. Soldiers screamed, as even their armor couldn’t protect them from the flames. A southerly wind blew, carrying the flames straight to his army and the surrounding forest. They sealed the gates shut and howls echoed from atop the walls. From every side, hellions leapt out from the flames, striking his army. Several spearmen rallied around him, swiftly cutting down any that came near.

“Protect your lord!” Ailog cried out as more soldiers rallied around him. He held his two mighty hammers tight as they crackled with red lightning. His bolts were small and feeble compared to Devilsbane’s destructive force. The flames opened, and he saw Ashryn rushing at him. “Prepare to meet your grandmother, girl.” He snarled and hurled one of his hammers at her. The fiery red of her hair shimmered and turned blue. Her face shifted as she caught the hammer and the hazel of her eyes changed to silver. The face of Varen met his as he brought the hammer down onto the dragon chariot.

Ailog hollered as his war chariot shattered, sending him to the ground. He cried out as a blast of flames struck him from the back. His hammer caught the flames as he struggled to stand in the chaos. Varen struck him in the face with his staff and brought the hammer down into his gut. Ailog cried out and slammed his hammer into the ground, sounding a shockwave to knock Varen down. “Give it up, your honor,” Varen growled as he simply glided through the air, “You’ve lost.”

The flames burned whatever wards remained around the fort, allowing his men to break free only to run straight into the maenad ambush. Ashryn pulled the surrounding flames in a vicious spiral as the lord’s guard rushed to his side. They found themselves caught in a swirling tornado of flames and burned up, with ashes falling around them.

Varen was closing in on his left and Ashryn on his right. The hammer flew from Varen’s hand into Ailog’s, and he threw the other at Ashryn. She shoved the hammer aside with a swirl of fire and threw a tendril straight for Ailog’s throat. Flames caught his neck and pulled him to the ground. “This is for my grandmother.” The flames held him firm as she lifted him into the air and slammed him into the ground. Cries and grunts echoed from his lips as she thrashed him around. Ailog flew through a burning building, crumbling to the ground. Pain wracked his body, as if someone had shattered every bone. Amber eyes glared down at him, the Grovewood boy.

Ruvyn gazed down at the horrified look in the magistrate’s emerald eyes. As he brought his axe down, a bolt of lightning sent him flying through the wall. Before anyone else could get their shot at him, he ran outside, fumbling as he threw his leg over one of his startled horses. Ruvyn chased after him, but the horse ran in a rush of speed out the gate.

“Protect our lord!” one man cried when they saw Ailog running through the gates. They began calling for a retreat, following their lord out of the gate. Hellions and maenads chased them through the burning wood. The ambush had decimated his glorious army of thousands, many laying in ashes.

Ashryn ran, but Varen grabbed her shoulder. “You must join our people,” He instructed her, knowing the slaves would make their way north soon. “Not until he’s dead,” she said, swirling flames around her fists. Varen shook his head and pulled her back again before she could run.

“I will face him; you must protect our people from the flames.” He said and looked up as a raven cawed over the empty burning fort. “They’re coming now.”

Ashryn had sworn to slay Ailog, but there were duties that stood before oaths of vengeance. The survival of the hellions depended on her and others. She nodded and lifted an unconscious Ruvyn in her arms as fiery wings spread from her back, carrying her high above the trees.