Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 142916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Villagers. That was all they were. How many could there be? The numbers he had were very low. Just under three hundred. That included the teens. They weren’t trained in warfare. His army could wipe them out in seconds. Where were the vampires? He’d lost track of Fulop, but the mistress could yank them back into the underworld if they tried to escape. He just needed to get to his army and get his demons back on task.
As he drew closer to the three hundred, he could just make out the demons fighting through the strange purplish mist. They were wholly engaged in a fierce battle. Satisfaction swept through him. He had three hundred strong, and they must have discovered the villagers hiding like the cowards they were. It would take short work to dispatch them, and he could lead his army out of the forest.
He’d like to burn it down, but for some unexplained reason, fire refused to ignite the trees or bushes. He increased his speed, shouting to the demons flanking him and calling out orders in a booming voice.
Branches overhead swayed unnaturally against the wind, seeming to follow his unexpectedly slow progress. Leaves and debris rustled and moved as if alive. The ground rolled beneath his feet, throwing him first one way and then the next. Two of the demons flanking him went down. He turned to yell at them, to drive them to their feet with his whip. To his horror, vines like slithering snakes had dropped from the trees to coil around the demons. Roots from the trees came alive, pushing through the soil, the dangling fibers like greedy fingers grasping and pulling the demons in different directions with enormous strength.
The demons shrieked as a patch of flowers came alive, undulating like a dragon’s body toward them, the folded petals of lily looking like elegant spikes down the spine. A head swung around, and Erlik’s heart stopped. It was a dragon, and sitting astride it was a woman with long pale blond hair. In her hand, she wielded a sword that looked as if multiple dragon lilies sprang from it, all spewing orange-red flames, steady streams of the hated dragon fire.
There she was, right in front of him. His target. His reason for bringing his army. “Kill the demon slayer,” he ordered, slashing at the dragon with his whip. “Kill her now.”
The remaining two demons raced forward to carry out his orders, but again, the vines dropped from above them, coiling fast around both like powerful anacondas from a rainforest. Roots shot from the ground, whipping around ankles and wrists and necks. The demon slayer turned her attention to the two hapless demons, unleashing dragon fire on them. Erlik ran for his life.
He approached his men at a sprint, aware of the fierce battle and knowing he had to identify himself and take charge quickly. He caught sight of Fulop and his minions at last. Five hunters he recognized immediately as Carpathian fought the master and lesser vampires. Arrows fell like rain from the trees where villagers were hidden and seemed to be protected from return fire. The arrows found demon after demon. Crows flew overhead, cawing harshly, stirring the fighters to greater ferocity. In the distance, through the trees and partially obscured by the mist, he could see the white horse with its rider, the one directing the crows and most likely the battle.
Vines dropped from the trees, huge snakes coiling around any fallen demon. And then the demon slayer was there, astride the dragon covered in lilies. Erlik crouched low, ensuring he wasn’t under a tree where vines could find him before he began to creep through the brush, his gaze fixed on his prize. If he killed the slayer, he could turn things around. He could once more take command of his army and return triumphant.
Erlik waited until her back was turned, until she was directing her deadly fire at the fallen demons, and he struck, knowing in the fierce battle no one had seen him. This was his best chance, and triumphantly he utilized it. He had the ability to make large, very high leaps. The dragon was low to the ground, the tail undulating, the wings beating strongly to keep them in the air. He sprang onto the dragon, swinging his heavy sword with one hand and slamming a dagger into the slayer’s back with the other. Before his sword could take her head, he was yanked backward by an unseen hand.
The strength in that hand was bone crushing, reducing his shoulder to powder. The sword fell from lifeless fingers. The pain was excruciating, but he’d been raised in the underworld, where every moment was torment. He could endure pain. He rolled, knowing it was a Carpathian hunter who had saved the slayer’s life.