Page 56 of Hell Sent

It would have to be him, or no one.

Channeling magic, he summoned his wings. He felt them sprout from his back, felt the magic filling them out, and then felt the air beneath them as they became solid. He flapped them once, testing them as he stepped out from behind the building.

“Where are you going?” Raiya asked, her tone rising with worry.

Perhaps he should have confessed his love to her then, before it was too late, but he didn’t. Going quickly felt easier than lingering and saying goodbye.

Without looking back, he sprang into the sky and flew toward the vythian. The sounds of the panicked crowd and the crackling flames faded beneath him as he took to the air.

It took him a while to cross the space to the vythian, and for a long few moments, he was flying alone in the quiet. It gave him time to think about how very foolish this was. But he already knew he wouldn’t change his mind.

He didn’t think he could win this fight, but maybe he could at least trouble the vythian enough that it would reconsider its choice of prey, or weaken it enough that the mortals could finish it off.

The vythian was turned away from him, facing the scattered behelgi herd. As it reared back its head for a blast of fire, Azreth folded his wings and dove, accelerating rapidly.

He crashed into the vythian’s neck, knocking both of them sideways. He clung onto it as it flailed, then bit into its neck. The hard scales scraped his teeth like steel on stone, but he crunched through them and reached flesh just before the vythian managed to throw him off.

The vythian’s blood coated his mouth, tasting like acid and rusted metal. He spit out a mouthful, but the acrid taste remained.

He rushed toward the vythian again, this time aiming for the membrane of its wing. The creature roared as he cut through the delicate flesh, but before he could dive at it again, its massive tail whipped toward him and hit him like a rock wall.

He did not remember falling, but suddenly he was on the ground, his entire body ached, and it hurt to breathe—a rib injury, he guessed.

The ground shook in a quick rhythm. Enormous footsteps.

Azreth shoved himself to his feet. Dragging its torn wing, the vythian was galloping toward him, jaws agape, getting far too close too quickly, and suddenly all he could see was a mouth full of teeth as long as his forearm?—

A burst of magic like a bolt of lightning struck the vythian, making it stumble. Azreth stared at it in confusion, then looked toward the city gates. Raiya was standing with her baton beside the building where he’d left her, drawing attention to herself instead of taking cover. He glared at her in warning, and she shot him a glare right back, but to his relief, she hurried back behind the building.

Vythians must have been stubborn creatures, because this one seemed to have no interest in retreating, despite its wounds, and only seemed to have gotten angrier.

At least it was grounded, now. As it turned its attention to Azreth again, he wove another spell.

This time, instead of wings, he made a sword. It was bigger than any weapon he’d ever summoned, longer than he was tall, which felt appropriate for what might be his last battle. It floated above him, and when he moved his hands, the sword moved with him, like an extension of his body.

He backed away as he struck with the sword, swinging and stabbing as he would in a duel. The vythian growled in annoyance as it snapped at the sword with its teeth, all while continuing to slither toward him. The sword barely slowed it down. The magenta blade scraped and clanged against its tough scales, rarely finding a spot weak enough to penetrate, and though Azreth was keeping out of reach of the vythian’s teeth, he was still on the defense, and the spellcasting was quickly draining him.

He was so preoccupied with his swordsmanship that he didn’t spot the telltale glow in the vythian’s mouth until the fire was coming at him. He didn’t have time to do more than flinch, covering his face with his arm, before it engulfed him.

A vortex of unimaginable heat whirled around him, deafening. When he inhaled, fire burned down his throat and into his lungs. He stumbled, pushed back by the force of the flames, and he felt the mortal-made fabric around his shoulders shrivel into ash.

He wondered, for the first time in his life, if there could be a fire so voracious that even a demon would burn.

Eventually the fire slowed, then stopped. The vythian had run out of breath.

Azreth slowly lowered his arm away from his face, trembling. Letting the glamour fade, he looked down at himself. His skin smoked. The enchanted bracelet on his wrist glowed bright red. His boots and sarong were scorched black, but intact. He stood alone in a streak of charred dirt, all the grass and plants around him gone.

As he looked up at the vythian, he allowed himself a moment of foolish pride. He was losing this fight, but he was not finished quite yet.

The vythian lunged. Azreth dove sideways as he brought the sword down, barely evading the vythian’s charge. His body had grown heavy, and the threads of magic that maintained the summoned sword were fraying. As he struck at the vythian again, he stole a glance in the direction of the behelgi herd behind the camp. They were gone, hopefully somewhere safe. The camp was empty. Everyone had evacuated. Hopefully he’d bought the warriors and mages in Ontag-ul enough time to gather weapons and plan some kind of defense. And hopefully Raiya was hidden deep in some cellar, far out of reach of the vythian.

Abruptly, his strength failed. He lost his grip on the spell, and his sword disappeared, leaving him open to attack.

The vythian didn’t hesitate. It darted forward, its long neck stretching as it opened its mouth wide. Azreth ducked, but too slowly.

Jaws closed over him. Teeth sank through his skin, like half a dozen swords at once. He did not even have the strength to gasp or cry out. The teeth sank deeper.

He was going to be cut in half. What a messy way to die.

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