“Majesty! King Ozz’s army approaches!”

Malkira kept his face a mask of tranquility, though his heart pounded in his chest and his skin grew cold. As the scout rushed back to join his ranks, the Demon King heard the drum-like beat of the enemy legion’s march. By the sound of it, this was a force far larger than his own. Malkira had brought only a contingent of bodyguards to this plateau in case of an assassination attempt or small skirmish. King Ozz had brought an invasion force, as if he planned to take the whole mountain range.

A cold wind blew through Malkira’s long hair, and its voice moaned in the trees.

Sygin, wherever you are, if you can hear my prayers and care to answer them, please… don’t let me die before I get Moloch to the Shrieking Shrine.

“Trolls to the edge of the pass! Now!” he called out.

The four lumbering trolls under his command marched over to the edge of the plateau, where the mountain pass rose up. On their way, they bumped and crashed into each other, and swung out their hands in petty fights and squabbles. Malkira groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Weapons in hand, trolls,” he commanded.

The four trolls all drew their swords, each blade longer than a man was tall.

“Archers to the high ground!” Malkira called out.

Those among his bodyguard armed with bows and arrows climbed the mountains surrounding the plateau, until they found spots up high where they would have a good view of the battle ahead.

“Where’s Moloch?” Malkira demanded.

The seer peered out from his tent and waved. “Here, sire.”

Malkira pointed to an alcove in the mountains surrounding the plateau. “Take cover in there. Stay hidden, no matter what happens, my brother.”

“Yes, sire!” Moloch said, in a surprisingly chipper voice. He fled to the cave and crouched down low.

“The rest of you, surround and protect the garden at all costs!”

Malkira’s remaining warriors balked at the command at first, peering back at the flesh-eating plants behind them. The Demon King didn’t understand their hesitation. If they’d been keeping the plants as well-fed as he’d ordered, then there would be no problem. He glared at the soldiers, silent fury in his stare, until they finally obeyed and took their positions around the jidra garden.

Once they were all in place, Malkira beat his raven wings, shedding ragged, black feathers as he flew, and landed atop a tall tree on the plateau. The tome hovered under his hand, and he extended his fingers out toward the mountain pass, anticipating the enemy’s arrival.

The Demon King heard a strange sound in the distance, and he puzzled at it. He inclined his ear toward the noise and tried to discern what it was. Somewhere between buzzing and whistling. He squinted to see whatever was making the sound as it approached.

A discus zipped through the air. Malkira squinted at it and saw that it had multiple whirling blades surrounding it. Lightning flew from his fingertips, but missed the airborne target. The object flew at one of the trolls, who raised his arm to protect his face.

The whirling blades made a loud, screeching noise as they cut through the armband on the troll’s wrist.

“No!” Malkira cried.

With his rage restraint gone, the troll let out a terrible roar and plunged his sword through the chest of his fellow to his right. The monster with the wound through his chest fell back into another troll, who pushed him off and punched him in his oversized nose. Within seconds pandemonium ensued, as all four trolls fought amongst themselves. Their blades cut through each other and their fists pounded faces. Yet, none of them fell dead, for their wounds healed nigh instantly.

Hooves beat the mountain pass in a full gallop.

“The cavalry!” Malkira shouted.

Too late. Soldiers on horseback charged in with swords in hand and cut the heels of the squabbling trolls as they rode past. The trolls stumbled around, crashing into each other and howling in pain. Malkira’s archers loosed arrow after arrow at the charging cavalry. Some cavaliers fell, but most wore armor too thick for the projectiles to pierce.

Malkira raised his hand high, and the moisture in the air gathered into dark clouds overhead. Thunder boomed overhead, and he prepared to unleash an electric storm on the intruders.

But a second wave of cavalry soldiers charged in with torches in hand. When they drew near the trolls they swiped the beasts’ legs with the torches, lighting their flesh on fire. Within moments, the giants guarding the pass were ablaze.

Malkira waved his hand at the trolls, and the clouds above turned into a frosty mist which blew over the beasts and put out the flames.

The cavaliers dropped their torches, drew their crossbows from their backs, and aimed at Malkira. The snaps and whistles warned the Demon King that their shots had been close, and he immediately retreated behind the tree where he’d stood perched.

No sooner had Malkira’s feet landed on the pebbled ground, then the Demon King waved his hand over the ground and spikes of stone burst forth to assault the enemy soldiers. Though the tree branches blocked most of his view, Malkira could still see the bolts of rock tearing the cavaliers from the backs of their horses in streams of crimson. A satisfied grin took its seat upon his face and a laugh formed in his throat.

Though the Demon King’s laughter never escaped. Through the branches he saw white flames around a flying figure.

“Azazel!” Malkira growled. He raised his hand to cast a spell at the angelic king, but the snaps of a dozen crossbows drew his attention away. At the wave of his hand, a wall of stone rose up between him and the bolts. A sharp pain shot through Malkira’s whole body, and blood poured from his eyes like tears.

The trolls cried out in agony as Azazel lit them ablaze once more. They collapsed in burning heaps on the ground, flailing about.

When they stopped, Azazel’s infantry moved in, marching over the piles of ash and bones the trolls left behind. The front line carried tower shields and formed a shell over themselves to protect from the falling arrows as they strode up onto the plateau.

Furious that his enemies had gotten through his first line of defense so easily, Malkira pounded his fist on the ground. Stones rose from the plateau floor and covered his body, until he wore a suit of stone armor with obsidian spikes and blades protruding in every direction. As he emerged from behind the tree, covered in rock, bolts from many crossbows bounced and snapped off of the stones.

Malkira raised one hand and waved it across the battlefield all around him. A stream of fire spewed forth, engulfing enemy cavaliers.